


A debt with the storm

by No hay remedio (superpaulina10)



Category: Ant-Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Attempted Murder, Cults, Hurt Peter Parker, Hurt Tony Stark, Multi, Murder, Non-powered AU, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Precious Peter Parker, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-18
Updated: 2018-08-15
Packaged: 2019-06-12 12:56:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15340326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/superpaulina10/pseuds/No%20hay%20remedio
Summary: Peter thought his life couldn’t get worse. After May and Ben died in a car crash, he had to move with his godfather Tony Stark, who lived in Eliozondo, in the centre of a valley in Spain. His arrival coincided with the discovery of serial murder victims within the valley, teenagers from fourteen to eighteen naked in the woods in a ritual pose.He thought being in a foreign country with no friends or family would be bad. And then he began to dream about the victims and mythological creatures, such as the Basajaun, the forest’s guardian. When he told Tony, his usually distant attitude became a brash overprotectiveness, not even letting Peter going alone to the forest.Is Tony’s unusual protectiveness only because Peter is between the range of the victims? Or there is something behind it? Do these boys share something more than the fact they are teenagers? Are those events tied to Peter’s childhood and Ben and May’s accident? Will Peter discover the truth before he becomes another victim?





	1. Prologue

**6 A.M. In the middle of Baztan Valley, Navarre, Spain.**

 

The search dogs’ barking crashed into their ears as they came close to what they found. They walked by the sheer way, the smell of dew and humid dirt filling their nostrils. Behind them, members of the Foral police talked about their lives, seemingly distracted from the case. The air was still and heavy, making it difficult to breathe for inexperienced walkers, but not for them. Still, the quiet atmosphere got everyone on edge, as it tried to warn them about what they were going to find in that forest.

The agents were waiting for them at the top of a hill, the dogs sat at their feet. Between them, a red pair of trainers were neatly put on the moss, pointing at the river.

They got separated since they began the expedition. The tall one went to talk with the agents with the dogs while the short one got closer to the shoes. Apart from them being humid and some dirt at the sole, they were spotless. Someone took great care of them, more than his owner according to the description they got. But still, they were red sneakers about the same size than the ones the young Iker was wearing when he disappeared two weeks ago. Little gloved hands grabbed one of the sneakers, inspecting them, searching for any clues, but they were clean, free of any taint or hint. At least, they were the same size as the one they were looking for.

“Are they his?” The tall one asked, coming closer. The other got, nodding slowly.

“Whoever got this shoes made sure any evidence stayed. They are in a better state than when the kid had them, though”

“Which tell us…” The other began, knowing that the short one had found more than what it was in the shoes.

“... That the person we are looking for either doesn't know their victims status when they got them or that they don't care at all, Doctor” an agent got the trainers and put them in a plastic bag. The two of them looked over the hill, hearing the soft murmur of the river, but not seeing it because of the brushwood.

“... Or maybe they want to show us something” the short one breathed, remembering the direction the shoes pointed at. Both of them went to the inspector in charge of the expedition, who ordered to get the dogs to look in the river.

They followed the lead of agents and dogs up in the river, trying not to fall or their feet get stuck in the mud. After five minutes of walking, the arrived to a slope in the river, seeing the tail of a fox hiding in the nearby bushes after being scared of the dogs.

When they got at the agents’ level, the tall one stopped breathing for a moment. The short one’s eyes closed in mourning.

 

* * *

 

**10 A.M. Valley of Baztan, Navarre, Spain.**

 

After two days of walking through the forest, the watch point was finally on sight. His legs were shaking, and his shirt was completely soaked in sweat. Didn't they tell him that the North of Spain was a cool place? Well, it wasn’t worse than San Francisco, and the view was nice. He could take it as a vacation.

If stealing a dead cults reports from an ex-police officer could count as a vacation. Actually, if he thought about it, he could consider it a business trip. Definitely better than a vacation, and at least it sounded a good excuse for Cassie. And her mom. And her mom’s friend.

 _“So, are you arriving here or did you get lost a seventh time?”_ A woman's voice began to talk from his walkie-talkie. As their employers told him, the rangers from the zone gave them in order to keep them safe, as they were staying on one of the ranger’s watch points with the pretext of making an article about the valley’s animal life. Either they didn't them or the Rangers were stupid because anyone who knew who Steve Rogers knew that he didn't write articles about animals, unless they were a protest about how the US was exploiting resources.

Because that was Steve Rogers was. He was the one who denounced the corruption and crimes of the government. He wasn't afraid to talk, and he was determined to find the truth no matter how much it was hidden. Even if that got him in danger. That was why he was always in the shadow, only appearing to publish one of his famous articles and then disappearing again. He could remember how his face distorted into a funny grimace, as Cassie said, when he read the letter, signed by Rogers himself.

Because Scott admired Rogers. He admired his bravery when publishing those polemic secrets, his way of writing, not bothering in sugarcoating his words. How no matter what, he and his team always found the truth. That's why he accepted the job, well, that and the fact there was no way to find another job after finishing his sentence. And the offer was too good to let it waste. That made him wonder, where did Rogers get the money?

 _“Mister Lang? Are you in there?”_ The woman spoke again, and Lang got the walkie-talkie to answer.

“Yes, yes. I'm here. Ummm… Yes! I can see the watch point!”

_“And we can see you too. There is no direct route from your position, so you'll have to go south and find a bridge in order to cross the river.”_

“A river? Is it deep?”

 _“Not too much, Lang. But the current is quite strong and could take a man thanks to recent rains. Also, the earth beneath it is too soft to be stable, you could trip and say goodbye to the world”_ answered a masculine voice that time. It seemed all Roger’s team was there. Something big was happening, that was for sure.

“Alright, I’ll go to the South. Watch me from the heights tand guide me if you can”

_“We’ll be your guardian angels, Lang”_

Half and hour later, Scott lost the watch point between the forest thick vegetation. That was just perfect. It seemed his employers lost him too, since they couldn't guide him either. Maybe the signal was lost? They didn't say anything since he got down from those hills. He tried talking to them, but static was his only answer. No signal, if things couldn't get better. Well, he could either keep walking without direction or to go back to his steps and try to talk again. He looked at his back, seeing the way he walked.

There was no way he could get back on his steps.

Well, he’ll go to the South then. They told him there was a bridge at South, or he might end in other watchtower and the rangers could guide him, right? Or maybe he would find some people camping and ask for directions. He saw a pair of boots at the edge of the ravine where he was. Great! There was someone there. He got closer to the boots, pretty clean except the mud of being there. But there was no one in sight. The earth was humid and soft, he should be careful of not falling. But, where was the owner of the boots? He took a look at the river, it wasn't very deep, but the current was fast. Also, despite the recent rains, there wasn't much water, with bushes growing and its edges.

There was something in the bushes, a white spot hidden beneath them. He couldn't recognize was it was. He squatted, to see it better when a loud whistle surprised him. It stung in his ears and got right in his spine, making him tremble and lose his balance, falling from the ravine. For his body, everything went fast, but he could see in slow motion how his face crashed in the ground, how his body began to roll to the river, the pain in his ankle when it was bound during his fall, the water in his arm as his vision went black.

 

* * *

 

**A film by Peter Parker**

 

“So, it’s twelve AM and I am in JFK airport after Karen gave me my passage.” A panoramic view of the airport’s hall, and a quick shoot to a tall, blonde woman who carried some luggage. When she noticed the camera, she smiled and waved at it.

“Are you tired, Peter?” She asked, and got a mumbling yes as an answer. “You can sleep at the plane, don't worry about it. Your godfather bought a first class passage just for you.”

“Really? I’ve never been in first class before, neither I was on a plane” the teen said, his voice slow and husky because of his tiredness.

“Well, you’ll tell me when you arrive at Spain” The woman joked, winning a shaky laugh from the boy.

They got to the boarding gate, when they had to get separated. The kid flinched, changing his weight from one foot to another. It was the first time he was truly alone since May and Ben died. Karen frowned, putting her hand on his shoulders.

“Are you alright, Peter? You know you don’t have to board that plane. We can call Mr. Stark and tell him that you prefer to stay here. Also, you know your friend’s mother has confirmed us that she’d be your tutor if you want to” the kid sighed, his eyelids falling slowly.

“I know that Karen. But Mr. Stark has already compromised himself to take care of me. Also, if Ben made him my tutor in case something happened to them it's because he trusted Mr. Stark. And if my uncle trusted him, then I can trust him too.”

Still, the kid hugged her, the camera pointing to the floor. A tiny whimper could be heard, the sound of clothes moving as the woman hugged him back.

“I know this is hard for you. Moving away from your friends, your school, your country… But I know you can do it, Peter. You are strong, stronger than most people I know. And you can call me whatever you want. If you don't want to be there you can call us and we'll come for you, anytime you want”

“Thank you, Karen. Thank you” said the kid with a whimper.

The sea was getting painted with the colours of the dawning sky. The kid got a hand over his face, the other holding the camera.

“An hour of flight and look at the sky,” he said, taking the camera closer to the window. “Karen said it was a 6-hour difference between Spain and New York. Adding that the flight takes another 6 hours… The jet lag would be amazing” he mumbled, moving the camera so it pointed to his face, soft eye bags against his pale skin. He yawned, waving goodbye to the camera.

“Hey, I really need to sleep, but I don't want to. I wish you could be here. It’s the first time I see Mr. Stark in my life, and he's supposed to be my godfather. What should I do when I met him? How should I call him? Mr. Stark? Uncle Stark? Tony? Does he even speak English? I hope he does, I can understand Spanish but speaking is a whole different matter” the camera move slowly, as eyes began to close. He wouldn’t last long awake. “You know, these first class seats are really comfy, I’m going to listen to Karen and doze off while I am here. See you in Spain!”

 

* * *

 

**12 AM, Valley of Baztan, close to the river, Navarre, Spain.**

 

When Scott woke up, he was in a sitting position. He felt a numb pain in his ankle, and saw a bandage made of moss and leaves covering it. Still dizzy, he took a look at his surroundings. He was at the river’s shore, his back against a solid rock covered in moss. How did he get there? He remembered falling, and he was closer to the river when he passed out. Who did save him?

Reuniting all his strength, he got up slowly, supporting himself in the rock. He took a look behind the rock, in order to see if it was an escape route.

He nearly fell back when he saw it. Without a doubt, the screams he heard were his.

Behind him, the pale, naked body of a sixteen-year-old boy rested. His hands intertwined and his eyes closed, like he was praying.


	2. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter shows Ned the coolest part of the manor, two detectives have lunch and Scott misses his daughter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Triggers: panic attacks, though I'm not the best describing them.
> 
> Enjoy!

“I tell you, Ned, This place is enormous!”

The kid was in his room, on his bed, his legs lingering at the edge not touching the floor. He got up and moved the cell phone around the room. The walls were painted in a warm grey colour, and the little furniture was painted white, making it even bigger than it was. Big and empty. Something Ned didn’t last to mention.

“Yeah, I know” answered Peter. “It just my things hasn’t arrived yet. Still, I don’t think I’ll be able to fill the room. But that’s not the best, look!” The kid went to the balcony in his room, showing the giant pool beneath it.

“Isn’t it amazing? We would have so much fun if you were here. And the decathlon team too, there are plenty of rooms in the manor!” Peter giggled and exited his room. “I’m pretty sure Liz would love it, don’t you think so?” He went upstairs again because he got the wrong stairs. “This place is a labyrinth” he mumbled to himself.

He got to the backyard, where the pool was. “Right, Flash wouldn’t come though. Fuck him.” He got closer to the pool, getting his legs in the water, welcoming the coolness. It was a really hot day.

“I miss you guys,” Peter said out of the blue. His friend was talking about them making water fights and such. It made Peter remember how far they were from each other. How far he was from everything he knew, from his school, his friends, from Ben and May… He was far from home, so far that he doubt he’d see them again.

Fortunately, his best friend was there to lift his sullen mood, though physically he was like, 4 thousand miles away. “What? You got the Lego Death Star?” He nearly jumped, his eyes shining, a big smile forcing his way on his face when he saw the package. He couldn’t believe it, both Ned and him dreamed with that miniature, and build it together. But he couldn’t build it with Ned. “I’m sure you’ll have fun with it,” He said, bending over. The cell arm was over his leg, while the other played with the water. He was starting to think that he should have stayed in Queens. If it wasn’t for his uncle, he’d probably have accepted Ned’s mom’s offering. But Ben made Mr Stark his tutor in case something happened to them, and he wasn’t sure if he could get away without his consent.

He wondered if Mr Stark did really want to take care of him. After all, he didn’t see much since he got in Spain, just during the route from Pamplona to the manor, which was nearly three hours of an awkward conversation about what were Peter’s likings. He felt like he was being interrogated for committing a mass murder. Still, Mr Stark was nice to him, and he even offered a tour of the manor, his new home. It had a bitter aftertaste when he thought about it.

Looking back at the manor, he sighed. That place wouldn’t be his home, it just couldn’t be. His home was in Queens, with his friends, with Ben and May. But his friends were on another continent, and May and Ben were…

He couldn’t think about it, he knew that if he thought about it, he’d remember everything: how they didn’t answer his calls when they were taking such a long time after leaving him in Ned’s house. How his little sister called them to see the news. How the TV screen showed a car that was exactly like his aunt’s. How May’s pale arm stood out against the darkness of the road.

His breath speeded up, but the air wasn’t reaching his lungs. His vision was fading, blurry because of the tears. His hands began to tingle, and the pain in his chest was growing stronger, like someone hit him with a hammer, every blow getting stronger. He shivered, despite his sweat soaking his tank top. He closed his eyes, trying to control his breath, as they taught him in the therapy sessions. But it was futile, and every second it passed it got harder to breathe. He needed someone to help him like Karen did, or Ned, Ned could help him. He looked again at the phone, seeing his friend stuttering, his eyebrows’ head upwards, eyed nearly popping out. He was telling him something, but Peter couldn’t listen to him. The only thing he could hear was the reporter’s voice talking about the car crash.

He brought the cell phone closer to hear Ned’s voice, but his hands were shaking too much. Before he could notice it, his phone slipped from his hands and sink in the pool. He began to cry. Everything was so overwhelming and at the same time, it felt distant, like a deep fog covered his eyes and ears, blurring and mixing everything. The only he was sure was his chest pains, the tingle in his hands, how he didn’t have enough air to speak…

And then, a loud whistle came from nowhere. He felt it entering from his ears and running through his body, freeing his lungs and stopping his pain. It cleared his mind, leaving a blank peace. His arms and spine felt like jelly, and he let himself lay down in the floor, his arms stretched out at his sides. He couldn’t think about anything besides the whistle, it both filled and emptied him. When it finished, everything it lasted was peace.

He took a deep breath, two, three, filling his lungs with the clear air of the mountains, so different from the air in Queens. He discovered he liked it, and didn’t bother to think if it could change his perspective about everything that was happening. Slowly, he became to realize the sounds surrounding him: the birds singing, their wings moving as they flew, the soft breeze passing through the leaves, the water caressing his legs. The fast steps coming closer.

Before he could even register what was happening, a pair of hands pulled him on a sitting position, The frowning, shining eyes of his godfather blocking his vision.

“Peter are you alright?” Mr Stark asked, but it sounded muffled, the vague sensation of peace not leaving him yet, which made difficult to understand why the other’s voice sounded so hurried. After a couple of seconds, he remembered everything, from his panic attack to his cell phone at the bottom of the pool.

“My cellphone!” he blurted out, looking at the pool. The adult frowned, getting closer to the pool to see the black rectangle at the bottom.

“Please tell me that was not the reason you didn’t answer me”

“What do you mean?”The kid asked, pouting. What was the other talking about? Then he noticed the wheelbarrow behind them, and how his godfather’s hands were dirty, he must have been in his workshop and busted him there.

“I saw you laying in the pool and I called you” the adult explained, sitting at his side. “You didn’t answer no matter how much I called and since your counsellor told me you were prone to anxiety and panic attacks… Ummm… How can I explain this… I… I wanted to make sure you were alright since you’re living with me and…”

“Oh right…” the kid interrupted him, and Peter could see how the other’s face relaxed, but without losing his stern expression. “Well, the phone fell and… I mean it wasn’t the reason that I was laying down… I mean that...hmm… What I want to say is that I was talking with my friend and I…” he began to shiver again, his chest getting tighter. It stopped the moment he felt an arm over his shoulder, the comfortable weight keeping him on the ground.

“Hey, don’t worry” The man assured him. His voice got softer, like he was afraid of scaring the teen. “You don’t have to tell me what it happened if you don’t want to. I know talking about that is… difficult” Peter heard how the other’s voice trembled, and saw his Adam Apple move when he swallowed. “I’m here for everything you need, Peter”

“Thank you, Mr Stark” the kid answered. Still, he let Ned when he could barely breathe, and he was sure the other was freaking out when the phone fell.

“Oh shit” the kid tensed, looking at the pool. What would he do? Ned was going to kill him for scaring him. That was if he could ever find him,  the manor was in the middle of nowhere. “Shit I was talking with Ned and now he’s worried sick I know”

“Hey, hey don’t get your pants in a bunch,” said the older, grinning. “I’ll get you a new phone in no time, meanwhile you can talk with him on skype, right?”

“Oh, you’re right” Peter agreed, his body going slack again. This time he got over the other’s chest, who flinched at first but stayed still, the hand over the kid’s shoulder drawing circles in the little shoulder under it. The moves were erratic, like he didn’t know what to do, and Peter thought if it was the first time that Mr Stark as comforted someone. Still, he was patient with him, and instead of getting away he just let Peter used him as support without asking.

And that was nice.

 

* * *

 

 

They left the forensic office without speaking a word. They wouldn’t go too far, since a second body would arrive in the afternoon. Two bodies found in the span of four hours, the last one giving a big scare to a foreign lost camper, who fell from the cliff at the side of the river. He would arrive the next day for interrogation, and of course, they would watch the interrogation searching for clues. It wasn’t like the camper would say anything they didn’t know already.

They arrived at a bar at the end of the office street, deciding to get something for lunch. The place was nice, but they decided to stay outside on the terrace.

“You know,” Began the tall one. “Smoking is bad for the baby.” The other only looked at the sky while lighted a cigarette. There were subjects the didn’t talk lightly about and that’s was one of them. At seeing the other’s face, the tall one sighed. “Sorry Faure”

“It is not bad for a baby if the baby isn’t there in the first place, Goebel” The other replied, taking a long puff of the cigarette. Goeble’s jaw clenched, and decided it was the time to call the waiter.

“So…” Goebel began after the waiter brought the orders: a salmon and cream cheese sandwich with Mahou beer for Goebel and coffee for Faure, who made a sarcastic comment about not drinking beer if the other didn’t either. “What do you think about these cases?”

“Cases? I would count it as an only case” Faure corrected. “What I think about this case looks like a serial killer is out there taking teenagers. From what we’ve seen, it must be someone from the zone, as the body was found with any evidence of a fight. The kid was on a close village’s fair when he disappeared, and his friends saw him getting on a van they didn’t recognize, but it must be from someone of the town since the kid didn’t go out with strangers. Both friends and family confirmed that.”

“From what you say” interrupted Goebel. “it looks like a typical case of murder, am I wrong?” Faure’s glare took no time to appear, which got a smirk from the other. “Then why did you want to come with me? Do your “contacts” tell you something I don’t know?”

Faure smiled. Goebel was as smart as always, a great feat for an Interpol agent. “I could ask the same, right? You were the one who called for my aid” the unspoken remark was in the air, and Goebel took a bigger swig of beer. “What does this case have to bring an American Interpol agent and a private detective from London?”

They finished their drinks in silence, both knowing the answers, but not daring to say them.

 

* * *

 

Scott woke up in a hurry, the half-eaten body of a teenager still in his memories.

If he were a religious man, he would have interpreted as a sign to reject the job and go back to San Francisco in the first aeroplane he could get. But damn the signs, he was going to work for Steve Rogers, so what if he got himself in the middle of a murder? He could handle that.

Well, he could handle it better if the victim wasn’t a teenager. That kid had parents, parents who got their child away from them too soon, without even saying goodbye. He could remember the mother’s broken cries on the news. He couldn’t help but think about Cassie, and began to look for his cell phone. He needed to call her, to hear her squeaky voice, saying everything was alright.

“You’re awake” he heard at his left. He turned his head to see a young man with long brown hair. Was his name Seb? James? Yes, it was James, but Rogers called him Bucky. They seemed very close.

“More or less. Hey, don’t you mind if I make a call?”

“No problems for me, but Steve wanted to make a reunion when we were all awake, don’t you mind to wait, right?” Scott nodded, though his frown said otherwise. The doctors told him that anxiety was a normal response after seeing something traumatic like he did, or that was what the red-haired woman explained. He didn’t know a word of Spanish. They prescribed him some pills which he hadn’t bought yet, and he had a date in Elizondo's police office tomorrow. He hoped they didn’t see his criminal record, though he already went to prison for that.

It wasn’t the time to think about that, Rogers wanted them to begin the investigation. Scott wouldn’t lie if he said he was jumping on his feet at the idea of being in Roger’s team, but his guts were getting more and more cramped the second he spent without calling Cassie.

“Mr Lang? Are you still here?” the strong, slightly concerned voice of Steve Rogers startled Scott. He looked at the man’s frowned eyebrows, and he suddenly was in 6th grade being woke up by a furious teacher.

“Yes yes. I am here…” he stuttered, focusing his look at the whiteboard covered in pictures and ideas. They had been tracking some people’s movement from the United States: an Interpol agent, a doctor, a CEO from a high-tech company, a therapist, a teenager… Some of those people had an X written in their pictures, and he guessed that people were in a better place. At least the kid was alive. He had to call Cassie.

He didn’t have very clear what the article was about after Rogers finished with his explanation. But one thing is clear: those people were in something big, big enough to get the Interpol behind their asses. Whatever it was, he was going to discover it soon, as his mission was to infiltrate on the ex-inspector Enmanuel Campero’s house, as he was the only one who still had the reports they wanted.

“I’m afraid that your part of the plan will have to be delayed, Mr Lang” said Rogers, sitting on the only chair of the watchpoint. “But with your status as a witness in the recently discovered murders, the police will have you on their watch”

“Please, call me Scott, Mr Rogers,” said Scot, his voice trembling. Was it because Rogers was talking to him or because the only thing he wanted at the moment was to call his daughter and know if she was fine? He didn’t want to think about it.

“If you call me Steve, Scott,” he said, and give the reunion as finished. Their workmates got out of the watchpoint, with the exception of James, who seemed the only one worried about having breakfast, and Rogers himself, who went right to Scott. The shorter male stopped his tracks when he felt the other’s hand on his shoulder.

“Hey, Scott, is everything alright? You seemed to space out during all the meeting” if Scott didn’t want to get out of there as fast as possible, he would marvel at the thing that Rogers was worried about him.

“It’s nothing, Mr Rogers… I mean, Steve” he began, taking a deep breath. “It’s just… After eight hours of flying and getting lost in the woods for the other three the first human contact I have in Spain is with a deceased teenager. God, I can still see him” he shook his head, his hands over his face, trying to forget that image. But it was there like engraved by fire on his mind, and he knew he would never forget it. He felt Steve’s arm over his shoulders, the weight comforting him, grounding him to the reality.

“I know, it’s hard to see things like that” Steve sighed. After a long pause, Scott ventured to see the other’s face. Steve’s eyes were focused on something on him, but at the same time, he didn’t pay attention to anything, like lost in deep thoughts.

“Steve?” James asked, and the blond looked at him, smiling. Then he turned back to Scott.

“You don’t have to worry about it, Scott. I’m sure the police will stop the criminal soon. Meanwhile, you can enjoy your stay here. Think about it as if you were on a vacation” the older man didn’t seem very convinced about it, but he didn’t say more but a shy smile and a low farewell.

Steve stood there for a few moments in silence, watching as Scott got his cell phone and made a call. He turned to Bucky, who offered him a mug of coffee.

“Anything in your mind?” the brunette asked. Steve took a sip of his coffee, not sure to share his thoughts with his friend. But it took a short look at Bucky’s face to know he was going to worry about it, even though it was nothing more than a hunch that didn’t make much sense.

“I’m going to accompany Scott to his interrogation.”

 


	3. Stories from the past, nightmares and old dust part I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a storie like one another about lost children, lost mothers and confused standbiers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for not being a full chapter! But I'm on vacation and I can't write now, so instead of making you wait for a chapter until September, I give you this.
> 
> Enjoy!

**An early morning at the middle of August, at the first years of 2000s**

 

The young man groaned, the unstoppable cries woke him up again. He shouldn’t have let her on his home. She was just as crazy and sick as his parents. Fortunately it wouldn't be for too long, her brother would come and get her that weekend. He would have to deal with her and her miserable spawn. 

Following the cries he reached the fourth floor, the place where the servants used to sleep in XIX century. He didn't understand why she decided one of those rooms instead of the others at the second floor, but he couldn't care less. 

The cries stopped when he got the doorknob. He paused, he shouldn't bother her, she was already stressed because of her offspring for him complaining. But maybe she needed help, and probably the cries would begin again. He knocked the door, only receiving a little whimper as answer. He knocked again, nothing. 

-Mary - he called the third time. -I know you are awake, you could hear the cries from the second floor. Is everything alright? 

No answer. He began to worry, why didn't she answer? Her mental status wasn't the best after the birth, she paced inside the manor like a lost soul, never answering to the cries until he or the maid called them. And still, she didn't allow anybody on their room. 

He took a deep breath, deciding to enter, what if she had an attack and needed help? He had to be the responsible adult, even though he would be dead before being responsible. 

He opened the door, the pale figure of the first mother shining like a moonbeam among the dark room. She had a baby in her arms, silent and quiet. His little face as pale as the cloth he was embraced by. 

She kicked a cushion under the bed, which made him notice it for the first time. 

-Mary, is everything alright? 

-He is dead - she answered, her voice empty of emotion. 

-What? -no, it couldn't be. With all the suffering she had to give birth, did the baby died? Less than three days after he was born… 

-He is dead. He is dead 

-No… It can’t be -he run closer, and she only walked back. She didn't want him to see the baby. What was she hiding? 

-Mary, how did he die? 

-He is just dead. I went to the crib and I found him dead

-Don't lie to me, Mary. I heard the crying, and if it wasn't him, then who? 

He turned to the crib, but before he could reach it a deep dizziness engulfed him, only hearing a faint cry before the darkness consumed him. 


End file.
